Rivers of Chronorlin
by Loominocturne
Summary: After a particularly dark summer, Hermione returns to Hogwarts - Only to find that her sixth year has rather unexpected events in store for her. Quite aside the return of an old friend, the Death-Eaters seem more active than usual ... Read and review!
1. Chapter One: Silk Grey and Blue

Disclaimer:

_All characters appearing in this story were mostly created by Ms. Rowling. All others are fictive and in no way real or alive._

_Dear JK Rowling_

_I herewith beg for your pardon and mercy. I hope my misuse of your fantastic creation, which comprises the entire world of Harry Potter, does not offend you in any way. I just couldn't stop myself …_

_I solemnly swear I'm not up to making any profit whatsoever of the following mischief._

_Remaining yours  in respect and reverence,_

_Me._

AN: Title still to be elaborated …

A HP fanfiction by Loominocturne

─ CHAPTER ONE ─

Silk Grey and Blue

The great castle lay silent in the grip of sharp autumn gusts, beneath a sky of leaden grey that showed tinges of scarlet and gold on the woody outlines of the westward hills. A pungent north wind invaded the Highlands' forecountry, furrowing the green surface of earth in successive violent waves, plunging valleys in withered desolation, and stirring the sombre waters of deep lakes. It wailed around the deserted courtyards and against windows beyond which no blazing fireplace roared warmly enough to prevent cold from settling in these dark corridors, sparsely lit by an occasional torch. The muffled stillness in the ancient school was broken only by muted thunder and some unceasing murmurs, growing louder to the ear of a solitary wanderer, as she approached the hall from which they issued.

Everything was so different. Even though she'd been teaching at Hogwarts for almost six years, Hermione Granger felt a slight jolt around her stomach, every time she looked upon the four rows of students seated in front of her. It was a strange thought, that she had taken her meals there during those many years, when she had still been studying herself. Hermione tried a weak smile as she settled herself next to a stern witch in emerald robes. Sitting with the teachers just made the Hogwarts Great Hall appear so much larger than it actually was. She gently pushed back a candle hovering dangerously close to her hair towards the hostile, overcast ceiling.

Everything was so different. Suddenly, it was her own children's turn to sit at the long Gryffindor table with their friends and classmates, to talk of what they had seen during the day, of what they hoped would happen tomorrow.

Even the World around Hogwarts had come to change. Since the Dark Lord's fall from power, everything seemed so peaceful. Hermione and her friends were now thought of as heroes, who had brought first hope, then freedom to wizardkind. Hermione personally felt she hadn't deserved all this fame. On the other hand, she mused, it was quite impossible to get rid of such titles once you had helped in destroying the greatest threat the World had ever known.

He Who Must Not Be Named. 

_Voldemort._

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Speeding through the wild and barren countryside of northern England, the Hogwarts Express was soon engulfed by the most inpenetrable fog Hermione had ever seen. As the grass and rocks disappeared behind a silky grey veil, the lights in the small compartment magically flickered on. Hermione turned at the sound of the door being pushed open. She quickly swallowed the mouthful of pasty she had been working on, while Ron and Harry, who had both gone to change into school uniforms, resumed their seats.

'Stupid fog, can't see a thing out there,' muttered Ron, stuffing a set of muggle clothes back into his trunk and glancing outside. 'When d'you reckon we'll arrive?'

'In about an hour,' said Hermione, drawing up a sleeve to peer at her watch.

'Sure?' Ron frowned.

'Of course I am.'

'Why?'

Ron had kept this tone ever since their departure from King's Cross. Something had made him extremely grumpy indeed, but what, Hermione didn't know. After all, they had spent a very pleasant summer together. To Harry's (and the Dursley's) immense relief, Dumbledore had finally allowed him to leave Privet Drive. Mrs Weasley, being just too glad to let Harry move into the Burrow, didn't hesitate in inviting Hermione as well, not pausing one second to realize she'd have a full house. 

Hermione heaved a sigh.

'Because we _always_ arrive in Hogsmeade at eight o'clock, Ron.'

'Good point,' said Harry. 'Oh come on, stop grumbling if you're not going to tell us why.'

Ron seemed to conclude that telling them was more painful than giving up his attitude, so he eventually calmed down after a few minutes.  Instead, he pulled out his old chess set.

'Want to play, Harry?' he said, in a more friendly way.

'Yeah.' Assuming a determined _I'm-going-to-win-this-time_ expression, Harry set up his men.

Hermione moved over to watch. Just then, the old fear struck her again.

It hadn't happened for a long time, but suddenly, Hermione saw herself playing chess with Ginny. 

_How ridiculously inappropriate_. 

She tried to bannish it away from her mind, but it wouldn't budge.

The scene loomed up frequently when she was feeling especially miserable, though she couldn't explain in what way she would feel miserable right now. It had all started one night, back in her third year, when both Harry and Ron weren't talking to her anymore, and she had lain in bed in an extremely pathetic condition.

Hermione didn't expect either Harry or Ron to guess what a great deal of thinking she had done about this. 'Perhaps because I'm a girl,' she had thought. Believing their behaviour to be part of the unpredictable nature of boys, she had assumed that she didn't care about what they thought. 

But the next day, Hermione had felt that she did. They appeared to have far more fun together than with her and there certainly was more quarreling when she was around. Thinking back at it, Hermione believed she had been through a rather rough time of her young life, overworking herself with the aid of a Time-turner. The additional fear of being cast aside by her only friends had been too much to bear. She didn't expect _them_ to understand her feelings, so she never told them anything. The only person who knew of it was Ginny Weasley, the only true girl-friend she had.

So it came that, during another night before the start of Hermione's fourth year, Ginny had said the following, ever so comforting words: 'Hermione, I know that somewhere, as deep inside as it may be, Harry and Ron like you as much as you like them.' And shortly after, Ginny had asked, 'Want to play chess?'

Ginny certainly was her great friend and they had spent most of their evenings at Hogwarts sitting together in their dormitories, talking about things they simply wanted to talk about, playing chess at the same time (It would take them hours to finish). Hermione was getting quite good at it. 

_Nearly good enough to take on Ron Weasley_, she thought.

Today, however, Hermione was quite glad Ron hadn't asked her to join in. It certainly looked as though he wanted to work off his bad temper in this game – Harry lost within five minutes.

By the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station, the fog and Hermione's worries had gone. While she stepped out of the compartment with her friends, a familiar voice could be heard shouting: 'Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here! Hello you three!' 

Hagrid the gamekeeper waved one gigantic arm as he recognized them. Swept along by the crowd of students, they only had time to wave back, before making their way over the winding path to the long line of horseless coaches. 

As usual, the mouldy carriages were waiting some way up a hillside flanking the lake, ready to take all students but the first-years up to the school. Out of her window, Hermione could see the perfectly clear night sky, sparkling with innumerable dots of silver. Looking down, she watched a group of little boats set out across the even water, cutting the reflection of an ivory crescent moon. And beyond, on a steep cliff overlooking the lake, stood Hogwarts castle, its many turrets and towers stretched towards the stars.

With a small yank, the coach started along the soft, muddy path. Hermione turned back to look at Harry. He was gazing intently at the school, as though it was a friend he was glad to see again. Both Ron and Hermione knew how much Hogwarts meant to him ; it was the first place he had ever called home. For some years already, it had become their habit to watch Harry while he greeted the school with his dreamy _Hello-dear-Hogwarts_ expression in the eyes. It somehow made them feel happy, too.

'Welcome back, Harry,' said Ron, grinning for the first time that day.

'Welcome home,' chimed Hermione, content that all the bad mood had disappeared at last.

Harry didn't say anything, but his friends understood.

A few moments later, the long line of coaches rolled past the two winged boars, proceeded through the iron-wrought gate and finally came to a halt at the main entrance. Hermione carefully jumped out, whereas Ron and Harry, who had tried to climb off simultaneously, were now seriously stuck in the other door of their coach.

'Oh _really_,' she smiled, grabbing Harry's arm and violently tugging him out. 'You two don't miss a chance to make fools of yourselves.'

They joined the flow of students in direction of the great oak doors that barred the entrance. Only then did they notice something unusual.

'Wow. They've been spring-cleaning!' Ron said, eyes widening with surprise.

It certainly appeared so. The weather-beaten walls had been meticulously cleansed of dirt and the bright light of the torches flickered to reveal an even grey stone colour. The only time Hermione had seen the castle in this state was when important guests, the delegations of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, had been expected.

'What did they do that for?' said Ron, brushing his finger at the stone and examining it closely.

'Maybe Dumbledore thought it'd be nice, having a neat castle once in a while,' Harry shrugged.

Hermione was still thinking about this sudden change in the Hogwarts cleanliness mentality, when Harry's face split into a wide grin.

'Wait a second,' he said. 'Haven't you noticed anything?'

'Yes. The castle's changed, so what?' Hermione felt slightly annoyed.

'Not that …' he grinned more broadly. 'I'm just thinking … I can't remember seeing Malfoy's slimy head today …'

Hermione and Ron stopped. That was true. And very surprising, too. 

In the last four years, ever since their second year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy hadn't missed a single chance to throw dirty remarks at the three of them, the first day back. And this time … it just couldn't be. No Mudblood, no Potty and no Weasel.

'Can you _believe_ our luck,' said Ron, dawning extasy apparent in his face.

They scanned the crowd of heads for an awfully blonde, pale and pointed one, but without success. Hermione shook her head. Without success? This had to be victory …

'Maybe he's sick,' she suggested.

'Maybe he's gone,' Harry sounded hopeful.

'Maybe he's _died_,' exclaimed Ron.

'RON!' Hermione cried. How could someone possibly say such things?

Ron looked very put out at her sudden outburst. He dropped his joyful grin and told the flagstones that he was sorry and hadn't meant it.

Hermione followed Harry and Ron into the Entrance hall and noticed that it was sparkling from all sides, too. The portraits had been brushed, the candelabras polished and the slippery floor was shining all over. The house-elves had better been rewarded for this, Hermione thought furiously. 

Their cheerful mood definitely increased after Draco Malfoy had been unofficially declared absent (it increased even more when they saw Crabbe and Goyle's long faces). Surprisingly, Peeves the Poltergeist didn't turn up either. Hermione guessed he was probably cackling over the poor first-year's heads down at the lakeside door.

They moved towards the Great Hall, as school expected them to do upon their arrival. However, Hermione, Harry and Ron found the door jammed with students. Cries of – was it surprise? – reached their ears.

'What's going on in there?' asked Harry. 'Why aren't they moving?'

'Perhaps we've got a new ceiling,' Ron was perplexed, too.

The crowd slowly moved on. Hermione looked up at the enchanted ceiling, but it was as enchanted as usual, which meant that the clear night sky could be seen. Harry and Ron however, were rooted to the spot. Having grown tall enough to look over the other's heads, their eyes were fixed at the end of the Hall.

'I don't believe it,' said Ron. Harry remained silent.

'What?' For the first time, Hermione wished she was a foot taller. 'Say something I can understand!' she plucked at Ron's sleeve. As this had no effect whatsoever, she grabbed them both, pulled them away from the door, and marched them off to the Gryffindor table. Steering through the maze of black cloaks and hats, they reached the right-hand side wall and siddled up to the very end of the long, polished oak board. 

Hermione felt her jaw drop and quickly closed it again. She could now see that at each end of the four tables, groups of teenagers had already seated themselves. They wore light blue robes, that seemed to be made of finest silk, and were smiling politely at the arriving Hogwarts students. 

Hogwarts castle was, once again, hosting a delegation from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

Harry and Ron weren't paying too much attention to the Beauxbatons lot, though. They were smirking brightly at the teacher's table. Hermione followed their gaze, and this time, she really opened her mouth. Behind the beaming Dumbledore, a young wizard was waving over at them, happiness apparent all over his handsome face.

'Hello Harry! Ron! Hermione!' he cried, hopping down towards them.

'Den!' they cried back, running up to greet their friend.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Author's notes:

So, I guess this was Chapter One. I expect the whole story to range around 20 long chapters or so. 

Hope you enjoyed the first. Please review!

Loominox

Next Chapter:

There'll be a special treat for the sixth year!

You'll find out who 'Den' is, our favorite ferret will turn up, and there'll be some new broomstick technology.


	2. Chapter Two: The Voyage Out

─ CHAPTER TWO ─

The Voyage Out

'Hermione?'

Hermione's eyes snapped open again. Everything around her was swirling uncontrollably and a feeling of sick dizziness clouded her senses. Teeth clenched, she pressed her hands against her burning stomach to prevent herself from throwing up. But the pain didn't come from there. It was the heart.

'Hermione?'

She looked up and saw what seemed to be Professor McGonagall. Hermione tried to focus on what she was holding out. Pudding.

'Are you all right?' The Headmistress was worried. 'You don't look too well, perhaps –'

'I'm fine, thank you Professor.' Hermione's vision cleared and the surroundings came back into focus. 'I'm fine,' she added (_unnecessary!_ she scolded herself) and took the bowl from McGonagall's hands.

The enchanted ceiling flashed as a long bolt of lightning furrowed the black, cloudy sky. The muffled sound of rolling thunder followed without delay. This storm was one of the worst ever – It had been raging on for five days, but the weather still didn't allow any sunlight to break through. Hermione swept the Great Hall with her eyes and slowly recalled it was dinnertime. She smiled weakly at young Jimmy Potter, who was scoffing down the contents of his plate along with the rest of his little mates.

_What happened, though?_ she thought, sticking her spoon into the dessert. _Was I dreaming?_

Hermione still tasted a slight bitterness on her tongue. She hadn't felt that sick for a long time. And then again … she had been dreaming of something … it had happened many years ago, but she had seen it all so clearly, the first day back in school … the sixth year at Hogwarts School of –

_Nothing to worry about_, she told herself firmly. _Too much stew_.

Hermione saw Minerva McGonagall intently peering at her from the corner of her eye and wearing a frown on her face.

'You really look off colour,' she fussed. 'Maybe Poppy …'

'Everything all right,' Hermione assured with a weak smile. 'It's just … the air. I'll go and take a few deep breaths outside in a minute.'

 'All right, then,' the frown on McGonagall's face flickered and finally relaxed, as she turned back to her conversation with tiny Professor Flitwick, the aged charms teacher.

Hermione swallowed the last mouthful of pudding and gazed down at the Gryffindor table again. She stiffled a loud laugh when Arven Weasley said something funny and found himself sprayed soaking with Jimmy's pumpkin juice.

Yes, indeed. So much had changed in these last years. Hermione found herself smiling again. She was so glad her children could grow up in such a peaceful world. After the Dark Lord's fall, the magical population in Europe – and in the Weasley household, by the way – had drastically increased. Actually, Hermione hadn't _planned_ to start a family so soon. Arven had come as some sort of surprise and Hermione remembered the blazing row she'd had with Ron, when she had learnt about it. But now … she was really glad it all had happened at that time. 

_As for Ron_… Hermione wondered what he might be doing right now. He was probably still in his office, having fun (instead of working hard) with his darling daughter Sam. Terrible name for a girl, Hermione had shouted nine years back, but Ron had insisted so determinedly that she had finally given in. Overruled by her husband. She couldn't blame him in the least now. Sam was such a wonderful child, it didn't matter at all how she was called. _Well … perhaps Juliet …_

Suddenly, a deafening roar of thunder rumbled over their heads, rattling the plates and goblets on the tables and startling the ghosts into oblivion. The tempestrous wind howled fitfully in the adjacent Entrance Hall, until a heavy thud was heard and the unearthy wailing died out. All eyes in the Great Hall were now fixed apprehensively at the door. Some frightened first-years shrunk in their seats. The silence was only broken by a few stifled cries. Hermione was wondering who this might be, arriving at such late hour, when with a loud creak, the door was pushed open.

A first man, clad in a soaked travelling cloak, stepped into the brightly lit hall. He was soon followed by a second, who paused to close the door again before turning around. Both cloaks bore a golden coat of arms. _The Phoenix._

Hermione felt the most pleasant warmth spread through her clammy body, as the Aurors removed their hoods. The Gryffindors and Slytherins stood up politely to greet the guests. Then the whole hall burst into applause. The din was as deafening as the raging storm outside. There was enthusiastic cheering from the Gryffindor side, while the first man walked up to the teacher's table, his smile evident from the distance. He passed behind the table and quickly tried to arrange his ruffled black hair, before approaching the Headmistress.

'Good evening, Professor McGonagall,' he said, respectfully shaking her hand, his hair more rebellious than ever.

'Hello Professor Hermione,' said Harry Potter, as he gave his best friend a warm hug.

Nothing more than a voiceless whisper answered him. 'Hello Harry.' Hermione felt her insides perform some joyful somersaults. No – it was a combination of wild backflips and saltos … He would never know how much she had missed him. Gone for a whole year. Harry used to turn up every week at the Weasley's home. But then, the ministry had suddenly sent him off to investigate disappearances in Russia and he hadn't returned since. 

'About time you came back,' Hermione said, frowning in mock anger.

'Oh, well … I thought I'd take a year off, back in sweet hot Siberia, to get the necessary distance between us,' Harry laughed. He smiled at the happy tears welling in her eyes and hugged her again. 'It's nice being home.'

'What are you doing …' Hermione sniffed, composing herself. 'Go hug your son, not me!'

'Sorry, I just couldn't decide …' Harry set up an innocent look that couldn't fool anyone. 'I'm still at work, Professor … So I thought I might hug my sister first.'

'Oh _honestly_,' she pushed him back. 'I give you my permission to leave your wretched workload behind.'

Upon her words, Harry turned and walked right back to the Gryffindors, where James Potter flung himself into his arms.

'Welcome to Hogwarts, Milord.'

Looking up, Hermione saw the second auror bowing deeply before shaking the Headmistress' hand. Her jaw dropped when she recognized him.

'Hello Hermione,' said Déneb Dumbledore, briefly bowing again.

'Denn! What are _you_ doing here?' Hermione hadn't meant to be as impolite as she had sounded, but her friend just raised his eyebrows.

'Well, I might've thought you'd be happier to see me again,' he said heartily. Hermione's stunned look must've shown, for he continued to explain, 'I joined Harry in his assignment a month ago. We were on our way to report to the Ministry and just thought we'd drop by to surprise you.'

It certainly was a surprise, though not only for Hermione. Most students were staring at Harry with awed expressions on their faces, whispering excitedly with their neighbours – the food lay forgotten.

Hermione watched in silence as Harry, now seated next to his son at the Gryffindor table, started piling everything he could find onto a golden plate, while Jimmy asked excitedly how many vampires Dad had slain.

'Er – where's my daughter?' Denn inquired carefully.

'Oh sorry!' Hermione exclaimed, returning to reality. 'Uhm … she'll still be up at the hospital wing –' 

She saw Denn open his mouth, probably to start worrying around, and quickly said, 'It's nothing, really. she caught a slight cold while she was down at the lake with the others and I sent her to Poppy for some potion. Nothing to worry about. _Honestly__._'

'Oh OK. You'll excuse me if I leave now?'

'Yes, of – _Are you all making fun of me?_ Stop asking my permission for everything!'

'Yes, Professor.'

Hermione aimed one large apple at him and Denn scurried off, chuckling merrily. 

She dropped into her chair again, hardly believing what had happened. One moment, she had been feeling terribly ill and the next, her brother and one of her best friends had arrived to see her – not that Denn's visit was so extraordinary, he considered it his duty to call in at the castle once a month at the very least, but it was today Hermione had wanted some friendly faces around her more than ever before. Feeling happier than she had for a very long time, Hermione reached out for a large bowl on the table … Perhaps she'd have another helping of Hog's pudding.

Dinnertime had passed in a flash after the auror's arrivals and it was getting very late. Far too soon came the time Harry and Denn prepared to leave again. Hermione wasn't really willing to let them go, but as they had said, there still was work to do. She made them promise to come back as soon as they could and saw them off at the Entrance Hall. Harry didn't seem too pleased either, and stared fondly around at the great staircase to the first floor and the portraits on the walls.

'Bye Dad,' said Jimmy, as he hugged his father.

'See you soon, little rascal,' Harry ruffled his son's hair and picked up his old Firebolt.

'Well … Bye Harry, bye Denn,' Hermione sighed.

'I'll be back in a few days,' Harry hugged her, too. 'I promise.'

'You should've told me she fell into the lake,' muttered Denn reproachfully, picking up his own broomstick.

Hermione laughed. 'You'd have punched me over the head if I had.'

He muttered some more about never hitting girls and cast her a dark look.

'Good night, Hermione,' Harry opened the door and glanced at the night sky. 'Great, it's clearing.'

And indeed it was. Through a hole in the vanishing clouds, a beam of moonlight shone down onto the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione smiled again.

'OK then. See you s–'

She flinched. 

The pain was coming back. Hermione grabbed the doorknob to steady herself and grasped for breath. She felt cold drops of sweat bead up on her face and a terrible bitter taste invading her mouth.

'Hermione!' Harry rushed over to catch her fall. 'What …'

She clutched her heart. It felt as if it was tearing apart.

'_No_ –,' Harry stammered, disbelief etched all over his face. He lowered her down onto  the floor. 'It can't be …'

Then Hermione knew what he meant. She had nearly forgotten about it. Voldemort's curse was finally taking effect, after all these years. Hermione felt her vision cloud once more and an intense pain engulfed her body. She wanted to scream, as thousands of scalding blades pierced her, but her voice was lost. She heard Denn shouting, felt Harry holding her up again – he was shouting, too…

Darkness.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Hermione stood aside, as Harry and Ron jovially slapped their friend on the back. She didn't really know what to do. The last time they had met, Denn had never seen a girl in his entire life – meaning that he had spent a whole day gaping at her in an unflattering _this-is-fascinating_ way. Hermione had felt very uncomfortable about this. However, his stay at Beauxbatons seemed to have made him more or less immune to the presence of girls, and to her immense relief, she wasn't the centre of his attention any more. 

In fact, Hermione didn't know Denn very well yet. She had only seen him for a few days, exactly one year back, when she had come to Diagon Alley to buy her school equipment. He had seemed very friendly then. From what Harry had told them, Professor Lupin and Sirius Black had found him living alone in some sort of forest. His real name was Déneb, but he had said he didn't like it very much, because it sounded so weird … though personally, Hermione thought 'Denn' was a weird name, too. He had also told them he was seventeen years old, yet wasn't really sure about it. Not thinking very clearly, Hermione had also noticed Denn was a very handsome boy. He had a lot of black hair, a straight nose and the clearest blue eyes imaginable. His face reminded her a lot of Cedric Diggory's. She tried to forget about the latter, as thinking of Cedric remained a mostly avoided subject.

'Harry?' Professor Dumbledore gestured Harry to join him. 'Can I have a word with you?' Harry walked over with a questioning shrug.

'Hello, Hermione,' Denn said, gently shaking her hand. She realized that he was still very thin, rather like he had been after his life in the forest. His hand and wrist didn't seem to have much more than skin and bone.

'Hello,' she smiled, extremely grateful he didn't kiss her hand or something.

Peeves had obviously caused a major hold-up, because the first-years weren't anywhere to be seen, and the sorting ceremony was delaying. Some of the Beauxbatons students scooted together to give Denn some space, and he sat down at the opposite side of the table. Hermione also noticed that he wasn't wearing the same silk robes as his fellow visitors, but a most unusual apparel. Apart from a very nice travelling cloak fastened around his neck, which was of a very deep blue and had the Beauxbatons arms (two golden crossing wands emitting three sparks each) embroidered across the back, he wore no robes, but several shirts; first came a thick, silver-grey one, over it an short-sleeved indigo, made of shimmering silk with fancy golden threads on the brims, and finally a completely sleeveless tunic and trousers of pure white satin. His leather boots, gloves and belt were black.

'What do you need _that_ for?' said Ron, pointing at something poking out from beneath the cloak. To Hermione, it looked amazingly like a sword.

'Oh that,' Denn appeared slightly uneasy. 'It's – just to look good. You know, Frenchmen just love showing off what a great nation they are, and I reckon swords are part of the show.'

Ron laughed. 'But you're the only one running around with one.'

'Not exactly … there is still – well, anyway, they gave me a temporary job as a School Guardian and it's compulsory to carry the blasted thing about.'

Hermione turned to him. Now, _this_ was something interesting. 'You've got a _job_?' she asked.

Denn blushed a tinge of magenta and said, 'I graduated end of last term. One year in advance,' he added, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.

'Well, that's great! Congratulations!' she said warmly. Next to her, Ron gave a low cough, which Hermione thought had sounded very much like '_Knowitall!_'.

'I wished some other people I know would try to take an example on intelligent, fully qualified wizards,' she pronounced scathingly, looking into his eyes.

'Drop it, _Prefect Hermione!_' Ron retorted.

Hermione's eyes darted down to her chest for a split second. 'STOP calling me that!' she snapped, involuntarily fiddling with the shiny badge.

'Then STOP acting like that! You've been –'

Unfortunately (or perhaps luckily), Hermione didn't find out what she had been, for a major argument between the two was averted by Harry's return from the teacher's table, and they all settled down in time to see Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, entering the hall from a side door with a stool and the Sorting Hat under her arm. She wore the most disgruntled scowl on her face. The chatter filling the hall died away and the door opened, allowing a line of frightened first-years to step inside. Their robes and faces were blotched all over with scarlet paint, no doubt one of Peeves' newest accomplishments. There weren't many of them, Hermione noticed, and the Sorting passed very quickly. Gryffindor only had four new students. Harry greeted each of them with a handshake. 'Leonetti, Sarah' went out cold when she got hers and saw whom it was from. 

Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands for silence and the babble ceased once more. He beamed at everyone for a moment, before starting his traditional speech. 'Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!' he said. 'I am aware that you must be longing for some good food, but before beginning the feast, I wish to address you a few words.' Dumbledore smiled under his beard and continued, 'Our older students may have noticed that we have visitors today –' he gestured towards the end of each table. 'Please give the students from Beauxbatons and their teacher a warm welcome.' A storm of applause broke the silence as the French pupils stood up, some waving excitedly. Next to Dumbledore, a laughing, portly man in comfortable purple robes raised, too. When they had finished, Dumbledore didn't discuss the matter any further, but simply said 'And now, to business!' and clapped his hands. 

At once, the golden plates were laden with delicious, mouthwatering dishes, and jugs of pumpkin juice appeared. A loud, satisfied 'ahh' ran through the hall, soon followed by the merry tinkling of knives and forks.

'Where is Madame Maxime?' Hermione asked, astonished that the Beauxbatons Headmistress wasn't present to keep an eye on her students.

'She stayed in France,' said Denn, removing his cloak and piling lamb chops onto his plate. 'We've brought our Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher instead.' He nodded toward the teacher's table. 'Don't be fooled by his appearance, he's brilliant,' Denn continued, and added as an afterthought, 'I haven't got any idea why, but Dumbledore requested him especially.'

Hermione could guess why, both Harry and Ron too, by the grins on their faces. For some reason, not one Defence teacher at Hogwarts had lasted for more than a school year. Worst of all, most of their former professors had turned out to be either totally incompetent, or  servants of the Dark Lord himself. The only good teacher they could think of had been Professor Lupin, an old friend of Harry's father and Sirius Black's, and who happened to be a werewolf.

'Well,' Ron said. 'At least we know from start this one isn't evil.'

'You won't see him, though,' said Denn, wiping his mouth and the happy expressions from their faces.

'Why?' Harry asked, frowning. 'Aren't you staying for some time?'

'Just wait, you'll find out,' Denn answered mysteriously, before being engaged into conversation by his French neighbours.

Still wondering what all this was about, Hermione began eating, too. She was beginning to think she'd die with hunger. Peering at her watch, she realized it was already past nine o'clock.

'Harry? What did Professor Dumbledore talk to you about?' Ron asked suddenly.

Harry didn't respond. He looked thoughtful and was absent-mindedly mashing his potatoes. They saw him pensively raise a hand and run it over the scar on his forehead. Ron and Hermione were quite sure they knew what was going on.

'So –' Hermione tried, 'any news of You-Know-Who?'

'No,' said Harry shortly. 'They haven't seen him yet. Not after what happened last time he appeared, at least. Dumbledore reckons he's waiting for another chance to strike, but where and when, he doesn't know either … _its' so useless!_' he shouted, violently sticking his fork into a slab of roast beef and startling everyone around him. 'He goes on murdering people and no one is there in time to stop him!'

Hermione briefly remembered what had happened the 'last time'. It had been a great shock for everyone. You-Know-Who's very first attack since his resurrection had aimed at the Ministry itself. During their Easter holiday, Hermione and Harry had accompanied Ron home to visit his father, who had been badly injured by the explosion. Luckily, Arthur Weasley recovered two months later. However, the wave of fury that followed the attack had been the most violent ever. The whole magical community in Great Britain was in uproar.

'Calm down, Harry,' Hermione said gently. 'There's nothing you can do about it now, and it won't help the matter if you explode like that at our start-of-term feast –'

'_That's the point!_' Harry shouted furiously. 'I can't do _anything_!' He tried to jab his fork into the meat again, but the poor roasted beef slipped and shot across the table.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She worried a lot about Harry these days, and Harry was worried about the Dark Lord, but she had sincerely hoped the fun they'd had this summer would make him feel happier. The most alarming fact was, however, that Harry seemed to think it was his fault that the most dangerous of wizards had risen again. For a whole year he had blamed himself for everything. And this really meant _everything_.

'Harry – leave it,' said Ron. 'Dumbledore can cope with that, you know he can. Come on, You-Know-Who's afraid of him! Just look at the great people we've got! We have the brilliant Order of the Phoenix against those foul Death Eaters! Be honest, You-Know-Who won't stand a chance.'

Hermione wished this was true, but she was grateful towards Ron for trying to cheer Harry up a bit. It even seemed to work. It was impossible that Harry believed him, but he laughed nonetheless.

'Yeah,' he chuckled. 'Next time he pops up, we'll give him a devastating kick up the –' Hermione chose to ignore the last word, but laughed along with them anyway.

The feast ended an hour later with a sumptuous blackcurrant treacle fudge pudding. How the House-elves had achieved to mix treacle with pudding and blackcurrant and fudge, Hermione didn't know, but it had tasted delicious. She wouldn't admit that she felt like bursting. The plates were now extremely empty, and when finally everyone had finished eating, the plates disappeared again, no doubt into the kitchens, where they would be brushed and washed by a hundred brain-washed slaves …

Hermione decided to take a closer look at the Beauxbatons students. Unlike the delegation that had visited Hogwarts in their fourth year, this group looked younger. Hermione found they looked as old as she was – nearly sixteen. They were laughing happily and didn't seem to worry about anything at all. Hermione turned to Denn, scrutinizing him with some interest. Harry had mentioned he was a very powerful wizard, though he didn't really look it. That might've been the reason why he had graduated after only _one_ year of schooling. After all, he had spent his whole life in a forest somewhere in Wales, occasionally mingling with muggles in nearby villages to get supplies of food. She really wondered how powerful he was …

However, Hermione's thoughts were soon interrupted. Professor Dumbledore had stood up once more and they could see his face shine brightly in the candlelight.

'So,' he started, 'I daresay we're all well fed and in a better mood now …' There were murmurs of approval, '… and that you are all anxious to hear what'll happen to you this year.' This time, the Great Hall lapsed into complete silence. Dumbledore smiled at their expectant faces. 'I have had a little talk with Madame Maxime, the honourable headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy, over the summer holidays. We have decided to make a new attempt in tightening the bonds between our schools.' 

Hermione briefly remembered the speech Dumbledore had given after the Triwizard Tournament. 'We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.' he had told them. So that was why Beauxbatons had sent their pupils to Hogwarts – to strengthen the friendship between both countries. In every way, Hermione admired the headmaster. Unlike the Ministry, he was doing something helpful. He was planning in advance and not for the moment. He knew what friendship meant. She listened intently at what came next.

'We thought it might be interesting for you to learn of each other's ways, to understand each other and become friends. Sixth-years!' Hermione, Harry and Ron looked up, surprised. 'It'll be your task to represent our school during the next six months.' 

Hermione swallowed. 

_This can't possibly mean …_

'The students from Beauxbatons you see here are part of our little exchange programme. They'll spend half a year at Hogwarts along with their teacher, whilst you, my friends, will go to France.' He paused, watching the stunned faces at each table amusedly. 'I shall tell you more at lunch tomorrow.' Despite the loud 'awww's, he said 'Good night.' and swiftly left the Hall with the other teachers.

A storm of excited chattering filled the Great Hall. Hermione, Harry and Ron – along with most sixth-years – still had to digest what they had just heard. _Six months_ in a foreign school? This was an event never seen to date. Unable to decide what to do, they swivelled around at Denn, discovering that he had _fled_ just like the teachers and was starting to gather his lot next to the door. Hermione followed the two boys, who struggled to break a path through the masses of students and two badgering Creeveys, in order to speak to the sly rascal they had called friend.

'Why didn't you tell us about it, eh?' shouted Ron, as they reached the door. 

It was soon clear that Ron was thoroughly excited in view of a long trip to France – It was a fact that Ron had never seen anything else than England and Egypt. On her part, Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable at the prospect of spending half a year away from Hogwarts. Harry's face was unchanged; he seemed to be thinking hard about it. 

'This is great!' Ron said. 'I've been dreaming of something like that! Finally we get to see some new places –' he was positively bouncing up and down. It was true that they hadn't been to any new places during the last year, because of the restrictions that had been placed over Hogwarts after the attack on the Ministry.

'I am glad you like the idea,' said Denn with a grin. He turned when someone called his name. Another young fellow with long, ivory hair and dark eyebrows approached them, several Beauxbatons students in his wake. From his robes and blade they could guess he was another 'school guardian'.

'Harry, Ron, Hermione,' Denn said, introducing. 'My friend Vargas Desrosières.'

They shook hands and gave a few hellos, before launching into questions again. The group started off into the Entrance Hall, which was more quiet (everyone was still chatting loudly at the tables).

Denn tried to give out some precious information before biding them good night. 'We'll be leaving soon, I guess. Do not unpack too many things, you'll take your trunks along.' 

'How do we travel? Did you bring the giant carriage again?' Ron inquired eagerly.

'No,' Denn held a hand to his mouth and yawned. 'Broomsticks.'

'Broomsticks?' Harry seemed suddenly interested.

'Good night.' Denn and Vargas herded their lots together and set off towards their dormitories.

'Isn't _anyone_ going to give us clear facts about _anything_ tonight?' Ron looked disappointed.

'Who cares?' Harry said. 'We're in for the great time anyway. What do you think about it, Hermione? You've been so quiet.'

Hermione bit her lip. 'I'm sure it'll be a good experience,' she resumed, unwilling to reveal her uncertainty. Harry and Ron both rolled their eyes at her shallow enthusiasm. Hermione laughed. 'All right, fine – I'm sure we'll have _a lot of fun_ over there.'

They reached the Fat Lady's portrait a few moments later. She was talking animatedly with her friend Violet, a portrait from a room next to the Great Hall.

'Welcome back,' she beamed when the three Gryffindors stopped in front of her.

'Cat nip,' Hermione said.

'In you go, dears,' the Fat Lady swung open to reveal the round entrance to Gryffindor Tower. They scrambled inside and suddenly found themselves rather tired.

'Wait a minute …' Harry dropped into an armchair, looking pensive. 'Where's _our new Defence teacher, then?'_

'What do you mean?' Ron frowned. 'We don't need any, they've brought one from Beauxbatons.'

Harry frowned, too. 'Well – if they've sent us theirs, don't we have to bring ours in exchange? I don't think they can do without a Defence teacher, not in times like these.'

'Yeah, you're right … but I didn't see any new teacher tonight, so who will come to France with us then?'

Harry shrugged. 'Dumbledore didn't say anything, either.'

'He didn't really say much, anyway –'

'True,' admitted Harry.

After brainstorming for a moment, they concluded that their teacher was probably helping in France, organizing the exchange.

'I guess I'm going to bed now,' Hermione mumbled. 'See you tomorrow.' She slowly walked up the right staircase to her dormitory, getting a weak 'Sleep well' in return. Hermione opened the door now marked 'Sixth-years' and collapsed onto her bed. She glanced at her watch again. Nearly midnight. Hermione banned all the thoughts from her mind and would have fallen asleep immediately, if the door hadn't opened again. 

Ginny Weasley came in and sat down next to Hermione's legs, with a crestfallen expression in her eyes. Hermione sat up, ready to help with whatever worries her best girl friend would come up with. She was startled by the coldness in Ginny's voice.

'So – You're going to have some good time, right?'

 Hermione felt slightly sick. It was clear why Ginny was unhappy. She was going to be left behind again. She'd be lonely for six whole months.

'Oh Ginny, I'm so sorry you –'

'Nono –' Ginny hastily said. 'It's OK. I'm not a poor little girl anymore. I guess I'll just put up with it.' Ginny looked very distressed, and Hermione understood the bitterness in her words. But she wasn't a normal person, she was a very lonesome one. She had never made really close friends at Hogwarts, due to Tom Riddle's enchantment on her during her first year. Thanks to the Dark Lord's gift for spreading discord and desolation, Ginny Weasley would never have the normal childhood she wanted. Hermione hated him for that.

'Yes … I guess we'll have some good time,' Hermione said, moving closer.

'I know what this is going to be like,' Ginny muttered. 'You'll make new friends and learn a lot of new things and I – I'll stay here like a good little girl and wait for you all to come back. It's just like the year Ron left for Hogwarts.' She looked extremely miserable at the thought.

'I'll owl you every week,' Hermione said, putting an arm around her 'I promise.' Feeling Ginny needed some cheering up, she added, 'You won't be that alone … There are always the Creevey brothers you can hang around with –'

'Oh great,' Ginny said, though Hermione saw a small smile break her forlorn face. 'Have you got any idea of what they do when they're together?'

Hermione shook her head.

Ginny's cheeks were finally colouring again. 'You won't believe it – they've got this album with pictures of Harry all over it, and go on expanding it with new photos that came from I don't know where … I even glimpsed one with Harry washing his hands in the boy's bathroom –'

'Lucky they didn't catch him a moment earlier,' Hermione said, grinning.

The next morning, Hermione met up with Harry and Ron at breakfast, feeling very queasy and excited. She had found a notice pinned up on the board in the Entrance hall, telling all Sixth-year students to ready their belongings that evening. It also instructed them to go down to the Quidditch pitch at four in the afternoon. 

'Isn't that great?' Ron said for what seemed to be the twentieth time. 'We don't even have classes today!'

'Yeah,' Harry grinned. 'Snape won't have a chance to poison us, either.'

'I wonder why we've got to be at the pitch, though,' Ron wondered.

'Denn said we'd travel on broomsticks … maybe he wants us to practise a bit,' Harry remembered.

Ron laughed. 'Yeah, he'll be worried Hermione might fall off.'

He succeeded in ducking one of Hermione's swats, but caught the second one right in the face. 'Take what you deserve, scoundrel.' Hermione laughed, too. It was true she wasn't very good at flying, and Ron just loved to tease her about being unable to handle a broom properly. 

After spending some free time idly resting under an shadowy ash at the lakeshore, they visited Hagrid in his hut. When they came inside, Fang greeted them with his usual joyful booming barks, and Hagrid bustled about making tea.

'I s'pose yer happy, goin' off fer a while,' he said, offering them some of his famous (and totally inedible) rock cakes. 'Yer in fer a treat, I'm tellin' yer. Got it all planned out with Olympe… Madame Maxime, I mean.' 

Harry and Ron stiffled sniggers, while Hermione shot them warning looks. Hagrid had been very taken with Madame Maxime since he had set his eyes upon her, but they weren't supposed to know about it. Although the sniggers weren't concealed all to well, Hagrid didn't notice anything and settled down next to them, his great armchair creaking alarmingly.

'Wish I could come along as well,' Hagrid said gruffly. 'Yeh'll be learnin' lots of new things, spells an' all …'

'Have you been there already, Hagrid?' Harry asked.

'Beauxbatons? Yeah …' Hagrid said with dreamy eyes. 'Nice place, that is. Straight out of a children's tale. Lots of forest aroun', hills and beasts. But I prefer old Hogwarts, it feels more homely.'

'What's Madame Maxime like? You never told us about her,' Harry prodded eagerly.

'Oh, yeh know … she's really nice once yeh get ter know her … knows a lot, she does.' he said. Hermione was sure she'd heard some fondness in Hagrid's words. At that moment, someone knocked at the door and Hagrid quickly shuffled over to see who they were.

CRACK!

Ron gasped and Hermione swivelled round. He was clutching his jaws with the most painful expression on the face.

'Augh damnit,' he mumbled.

'Ron, don't tell me you've been trying a cake,' Harry said, coughing rather suspiciously.

'Are you all right?' Hermione moved closer for a look. He wasn't – one of his teeth was broken. 'Oh my goodness … come here, Ron.'

'Wha' ar ye goinhg ho ho?' he moaned. Ron did come closer, though.

Hermione directed her wand at his mouth, ignoring his widening eyes, and said '_Molare Reparo!_'. The shattered tooth fixed itself instantly.

'Ah … thatsh be'er … fanksh Er-my-knee,' he sighed gratefully, still holding his painful jaw.

'Enjoying your time?' someone called. Hermione saw Denn's head poking in through the doorframe. 'Don't forget to come to the pitch,' he said before leaving, and Hagrid closed the door again. He was beaming down at an envelope held in his gigantic hands.

'Who's it from?' Harry asked, though he could probably guess.

'Oh … nothin' important … jus' a letter,' Hagrid muttered evasively and proving everyone right. 'Nice lad, Denn,' he said, changing the subject. 'Yeh met him las' year, I heard?'

'Yeah, back in Diagon Alley,' Harry said, still smiling.

'Really great chap. He's got a lot from Dumbledore, yeh know. Very powerful, too,' Hagrid continued. 'I'm glad Dumbledore got him back. Now he's got some family, at least.'

Harry and Hermione looked up. 'What? _Family?_'

'Didn' yer know?' Hagrid was surprised. 'Denn's his grandson.'

They stared at him, round-eyed. 'Dumbledorsh'?' Ron was gaping like a fish.

'Why didn't he tell us?' Hermione said.

'Sinsh when hash _Dumbledore_ got fam –' Ron winced as Harry nudged him sharply in the ribs, shutting him up.

Hagrid watched them silently for a while, before answering, 'He hasn't told yeh anythin' at all?'

Harry, Ron and Hermione slowly shook their heads. 

Hagrid cleared his throat loudly. 'Shouldn't have told yeh that … I should not have told yeh that … 'Tisn't a nice story, mind.'

Hermione could see his tangled beard droop an inch around his mouth.

'I never knew that Dumbledore has children,' she said.

Hagrid's beard drooped again. 'He _had_, many years ago … they're dead,' he added quietly.

'Oh …' Hermione felt her insides squirm. Harry and Ron were studying their shoelaces. 'We didn't know.' She felt absolutely stupid saying this.

'Why.' Harry was still staring at the floor. 'What happened?'

Hagrid shifted uneasily in his chair and said faintly, 'You-Know-Who.'

Hermione saw Harry's fists clench. When he looked up again, his eyes showed nothing but hatred. The silence in the hut was unbearable. The happy face of Dumbledore loomed up in Hermione's head. It was impossible to see through his twinkling eyes that the people he had loved had been decimated.

When they left Hagrid's hut ten minutes later, Hermione felt nothing but pity and sorrow for their friendly headmaster. Harry didn't say a word as they made their way down towards the pitch. Hermione wondered what his thoughts were. Finally, it was Ron who spoke up.

'I don't think we should tell him we know about it.'

'Denn? Or Dumbledore?' Hermione asked.

'Both,' Ron said slowly. 'They didn't want us to know, after all.'

Hermione was mildly surprised at Ron's attitude. She had rarely heard him say things as seriously as that. In fact, she had been worried he'd have blundered onto poor Denn and started badgering him into the subject. Hermione didn't know why, but she felt something oddly similar to pride towards her friend.

'Well, well, well – we meet again,' called a horrible sneering voice behind them.

_Oh no. Not him …_

Hermione froze. This was the worst thing that could happen right now. Draco Malfoy slowly walked over to them, flanked as he always was, by his two protection gorillas. Crabbe and Goyle looked a lot meaner than they had the last night (now that they had their brain back), and were sniggering stupidly.

Hermione risked a short glimpse at Harry. _Very bad_, she thought. He was already in a murderous mood because of what Hagrid had just told them – But now, he looked ready to rip Malfoy into bacon rinds. Ron seemed to have taken notice of this, too. He carefully grabbed a handful of Harry's robes and prepared to hold him back.

'Get lost, Malfoy,' he spat angrily.

To her very own surprise, Hermione heard herself take over. 'So – I see you're back,' she said in a dangerously calm voice. She had no idea what she was doing, the words had simply left her. Ron gasped. He obviously knew what was coming, because he grabbed her robes with his other hand. Hermione was feeling murderous, too. She stared poisoned daggers at Malfoy's cold eyes and felt her body heat up uncontrollably.

_This foul piece of scum._

'Oh dear,' said Malfoy, frowning his pointed face. 'The Mudblood. I heard you had an interesting summer – attacked by supporters of the Dark Lord … how unfortunate …'

'Oh, it was nothing, really,' Hermione derisively waved her hand, still strangely calm. She was surprised that she felt herself smiling. Ron gulped and gripped her robes tighter. 'Your father just got our house.'

'My father, you say?' Malfoy was now looking into her eyes. 'I'm sorry if I can't follow you all too well …'

'Never mind,' Hermione glared back. She was flexing her right-hand fingers.

'Uuh … going to smack me, are you?' he sneered.

_How right you are, I will. Let go, Ron…_

Ron, however, did not loosen his grip. 'Don't,' he whispered. '_Please_.' He was pulling her towards him.

Hermione was slightly taken aback by this. It wasn't in Ron's nature to be evasive when Malfoy was sneering around. Ron was always the first to jump at him.

'Didn't you hear? Get LOST!' he shouted in Malfoy's direction.

'Oh no,' Draco cried, holding his hands up in front of him. 'Here comes the gallant knight!'

Hermione snapped.

She drew her wand.

Crabbe and Goyle lept aside.

'LUMEN SOLIS!' she yelled, her wand aimed directly at her opponent's head. 

A blinding flash of light erupted from the wand's end and engulfed them all in dazzling brightness. Their closed eyelids didn't protect them from blackout. The flash disappeared instants later and Hermione crumpled to her knees. 

It was lucky that she had worn off some of her energy at Ron's intervention – or Malfoy may not have survived.

'Oh my –' Harry gasped. She glanced up at what she had done.

Malfoy looked terrible. He lay unconscious in a heap on the grass and was injured. Badly. Hermione came back to her senses and quickly jumped up. 'Get Madam Pomfrey!' she said shakily. 

The Sunbeam spell had done less damage than Hermione had intended while performing it, but now, panic flooded her. Malfoy's entire face was gravely burnt. His robes had been ripped apart in great portions, and the remains were smouldering slightly.

'Hermione …' Ron breathed.

The wand made no sound as it dropped onto the grass. Hermione was shaking all over. She thought she was going to faint, but Ron caught her and supported her on her feet.

'What have I done …'

'It's all fine, Madam Pomfrey'll fix him – don't worry,' Ron assured her, though he looked worried himself. When tears welled up in Hermione's eyes, he didn't really know what to do, but gave her a gentle pat over the head nonetheless. Luckily, Crabbe and Goyle weren't too badly hurt. They appeared to have burried their faces in the soft earth, so that only their backs were merely singed. Hermione and Ron heard rushing footsteps, and the matron came hurrying over, followed by Professor McGonagall, whose face was very white. Harry was with her, too.

'Dear me,' gasped Madam Pomfrey. Not wasting any time, she flicked her wand and summoned a stretcher, before scurrying off to the castle with Malfoy on it.

There was a moment's silence, as they watched them disappear. Hermione couldn't hear very well. A strange humming filled her ear,s and she felt like walking through a long tunnel. 

Somewhere far away, she heard Professor McGonagall say 'Miss Granger – follow me, please.' Her voice was unusually cold. 

Ron didn't let go of her when they all started up to the castle as well. Hermione knew what was coming. She had done it. She had nearly killed a student. This meant _expulsion_.

She also knew she was taken directly to Professor Dumbledore's office. Hermione took no notice of the journey there, through innumerable corridors and passages. Mad thoughts were rushing wildly through her head. From what Harry had reported of his many sessions there, Dumbledore had always been unexpectedly fair. But this time, it was definitely over. In an eternal instant, they found themselves standing in front of a large stone gargoyle. Professor McGonagall gave a password, which Hermione didn't hear, and said 'Go – You too' she added to Harry and Ron.

Behind the gargoyle, the wall split in two parts, and Hermione could see a winding staircase, that moved smoothly upwards like a muggle escalator ... She'd probably be using those a lot, soon… The dazed feeling slowly left her, allowing the full impact of dread and misery to break upon her instead. Heart pounding, she waited until the stairs carried her to a polished oak door. She tapped the brass knocker and waited for a reaction. She heard a sliding of locks and the door creaked open by itself. Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped inside. The office was round and there was a large desk at the other end with no one sitting behind it. She started when a gagging noise issued from a corner behind her. Professor Dumbledore was calmly standing there, feeding fruit to some sort of bird. Another wave of dread swooped over her. She tried to make her mouth open, but from her sides erupted a storm of words.

'Professor, it wasn't her fault –'

'_Malfoy_provoked it, he –'

'You _can't_punish –'

'He made her snap, he provoked –'

'Let her off, _please_…'

'She didn't do anything wrong –'

'Let us explain –'

'_Professor_ –'

'SIR!'

Professor Dumbledore merely raised his brows at them and silenced them both with a piercing look. Hermione tried to study his face and, to her horror, he wore a deep frown. Hermione stared at her feet. When he spoke, his voice was very grave.

'Tell me what happened. The _complete_ truth, please.'

Ron and Harry launched themselves into explanations, starting with Malfoy's nasty greeting, going through his sneering, and ending with Hermione's retaliation. Hermione couldn't discern a clear structure in their account of the story – which, by the way, glossed over some details they obviously didn't consider worth reporting – but Professor Dumbledore remained silent until they had finished.

'You may go, Harry. Ron, you too,' he said. They knew it was no use to argue any longer and left quietly, casting Hermione desperate, commiserating looks.

When they had left, Professor Dumbledore walked up to his oakwood desk and motioned Hermione to sit down. She obeyed wordlessly, head bowed. She noticed her face was very damp, and tried to vigorously rub the tears away.

'Lumen Solis … are you aware that you could have killed Mr. Malfoy with this spell?' the Headmaster asked quietly. Hermione nodded.

'I want to know why you cracked, Hermione'

She was startled at this question. She hadn't expected it at all. Hermione looked up, forgetting that she was crying and didn't want to show it. One glance at the _concerned_ expression in Dumbledore's eyes was enough to make her burst into tears completely. Her own account of how she felt was told through continuous sobs, but Dumbledore listened to her without interrupting.

Finally, he asked, 'I still don't understand why you were so angry with Mr. Malfoy at that moment. I believe it was the first time you met him since the end of last term, was it not?'

Hermione felt her stomach contract into emptiness. How was she supposed to tell him?

'We were at Hagrid's,' she blurted out, before she could even stop herself.

'Nothing unusual for you,' Dumbledore's frown softened. 'What happened?'

'Denn – I mean Déneb, came …' Hermione stammered. 'And Hagrid –'

Comprehension appeared on the Headmaster's face. 'Ah … yes …' he said knowingly. 'Dear Hagrid told you about my family.' 

Hermione nodded again. 'Are you angry with him?' she asked, knowing she shouldn't have.

Dumbledore looked at her. His eyes were twinkling friendily now, like they always used to. 'No. I couldn't be angry at him for doing that. He tends to release information unintendedly once in a while, but he's got his heart in the right place. I like Hagrid very much. I have known him for many years, and I trust him. I even think he did the right thing, telling you,' he said slowly.

Then, her insides dissolving more than ever, Hermione asked, 'Are you angry – with _me_?' She studied the floor again, knowing her face was very white.

There was a long pause. Hermione continued staring at her smudged robes and the boarding of the floor, terrible thoughts of her being kicked out racing through her mind. Then, after a very long moment –

'I am not.'

'_What?_' Hermione's eyes shot up and she nearly jumped up as well, had she not stopped herself in time.

Dumbledore actually smiled. 'You heard me right. I am not angry with you. You will not be expelled.' Hermione's heart was pounding at top speed. 'But I want you to know that I am still very disappointed at your behaviour. I understand that you were provoked, however –' Dumbledore looked at her sternly, 'You have gravely endangered the security of your classmates. I cannot leave this fact out of account.' He stood up and she followed the movement, head drooping once more with guilt. Whatever came, she had deserved it.

The Headmaster cleared his voice. 'Miss Granger, you lose Gryffindor house a hundred points and will receive detention. Your parents shall be informed of the incident. The School Prefects will debate on your preserving the badge. Dismissed.'

In normal circumstances, Hermione would have gone out cold at these news. At this very moment, she felt like exploding with joy and relief. She gave a short bow and walked towards the door. Just as she grasped the knob, she turned back.

'Yes?' Professor Dumbledore looked back up from his papers.

'Sir – may I ask you something?' she said uncertainly. 'It's some sort of favour.'

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. 'A favour, Hermione?'

'Yes – may Ginny Weasley come to Beauxbatons with us?' she said very quickly.

The great wizard cast her an inquiring look. 'Why?' he asked after a while.

'She … she is so lonely,' Hermione launched in. 'She'd really love to come.'

Dumbledore watched her for some time. 'I know she would,' he said. 'But no.'

Hermione knew she had been very stupid in thinking that Ginny could come to France with them, and was slightly ashamed of it. However, she resumed that the Headmaster didn't wish to be bothered any longer. 'Thank you, Professor,' she said and felt her heart give a nervous thump against her chest.

'Good day, Hermione,' Dumbledore smiled, and she closed the door behind her.

A quarter hour later, Hermione, Harry and Ron were hurrying down to the Quidditch Pitch, wondering if there would still be someone there. They were running very late, and dinner was due to start soon as well. However, nothing could hide the happiness on their faces.

'I still can't believe he let you off,' Ron was saying. 'After all, Malfoy was nearly _melted_.'

Hermione didn't answer. It certainly sounded as though Ron was disappointed of Dumbledore's judgement, but she knew he didn't mean it that way. He was gazing at her with a glowing eyes, something he really didn't do often. It was rather pleasant.

When they arrived at the pitch, it was deserted. They were about to walk back, angry at missing such an important appointment, when they spotted Denn sitting alone in the stands, gazing at the sun. He jumped down lightly when he saw them. He was holding two broomsticks in his hand.

'Don't go yet,' he waved at them. 'I've been waiting for you.'

When he reached them, he said, 'What kept you?'

Harry and Ron quickly recounted what had happened. Denn looked at Hermione, with a surprised smile dancing in his face. Personally, Hermione thought this didn't exactly fit into the seriousness of the situation.

'Shame yourself,' Denn said. 'It isn't proper for Prefects to run amok like that.'

'I didn't run amok!' Hermione snapped angrily. 'He wanted it!'

'Did he, now? I thought being melted was rather unpleasant … Anyway –' he quickly went on (Hermione was getting very red), 'To business.'

They stood in front of him, as he carefully placed the broomsticks on the ground. 'You'll be flying those tomorrow. You need to get accustomed to them, that's what you're here for.'

He picked up the first broomstick. 'This is the French competition broom Alizé Five, combined with a _Rapidos_ swiftflight travel upgrade,' he told them.

Though Hermione didn't know much about brooms and didn't get a word of what Denn had just said, she thought this one was beautiful, and from Harry and Ron's gasps, they felt the same. The handle was very slim, and made of finished rosewood. The tip slightly resembled a harpoon's and continued in the smoothest bend towards the middle, where the bend inverted.

'The Alizé is built along the _Cosinus_ style, to increase flying comfort,' Denn informed them. 'Usually, the Alizé comes as a normal competition model, but it may be upgraded into a travelling broom. The three golden stripes on the handle and the specific tail twigs make up the travelling extension. This is what you must take care of while in the air.'

Hermione was trying to follow all the technical descriptions, but found it extremely difficult. Harry and Ron were listening in rapt attention.

'_Never touch the three stripes if you are not at full speed,' Denn warned. 'If you do, it might be very dangerous. The broom will simply shoot away under you and in that case, I do hope you have a flying charm ready.' _

Hermione felt her head bead up in sweat. They hadn't done flying charms yet …

'This does not apply to girls.'

_Huh?_

Denn smiled at her. 'Don't worry. I've got something else for you.' He picked up the second broomstick. It looked as smashing as the first.

'This one here,' Denn went on, 'Is the Zéphyr. It is very similar to the Alizé series, but it was created for female riders.'

Harry and Ron both raised their eyebrows. They had obviously never heard of a broom for girls before.

'The Zéphyr is more docile in comparison to the Alizé. The cut was also adapted for girls. It can reach the same speed, but is softer in its movements. However, you will notice that the Zéphyr can't be tossed through the air like an Alizé, and therefore isn't a good choice for Quidditch matches.'

'How fast do they go?' Ron asked curiously.

'In Swiftflight condition, both brooms can reach around seven hundred miles per hour.'

Harry and Ron dropped their jaws – Hermione, too. 

_Seven hundred._

'Wow,' they said, staring at the marvels lying at their feet.

'Go on,' Denn said. 'Have a try before dinner starts.'

Harry picked up the Alizé first (Ron was ushering him uncertainly).

'Please be careful,' Denn reminded quickly as he mounted it. '_Don't touch the stripes – Neville had one broom smashed into pieces against the stands just now.'_

Harry kicked off the ground and soared up into the sky. They watched him loop some loops and roll around, before he came down again, face flushed.

'I can't believe it,' he panted. 'The acceleration is way better than the Firebolt's. I was afraid to fall off at first – Mind you don't kick off too hard, Ron …'

Hermione gave Ron a scared look, but he only answered with a determined stare.

'Off you go,' Denn ushered. 'You too, Hermione.'

_What?_ Hermione felt her insides churn. She didn't feel quite ready for it yet.

'Go on,' Harry said. 'It's fun.'

'I'll take your word for it,' she muttered darkly, and swung a leg over the Zéphyr Denn had handed her.

Hermione gave a short kick off and rose into the air.__

_My goodness – this is easy!_

And it was. She had never flown anything else than the school brooms, which were soggy and stubborn. But _this_ was fantastic. The Zéphyr seemed to read her thoughts and reacted to the slightest touch. She hardly needed to balance it out. Hermione was quickly gaining height and enjoyed the wind blowing through her hair. Very careful not to touch the three golden stripes, she gripped the broom further up the handle. So this was the _Cosinus_ cut. Hermione realized that the funny, bent shape of the broomstick allowed a more upright sitting position, while speeding up. The straight school Shooting Stars needed you to lie down on the handle, something she thought was extremely uncomfortable. Hermione was still testing the Zéphyr's flying capabilities, when a sharp whistle rang through the air, telling her to come back down.

'Hermione!' Ron gasped, as she landed. 'You – you know how to fly!'

Hermione looked at him. 'Of course I know how to fly – I simply used a good broom for a change.'

'Very good!' said Denn, taking the broom from her. 'You'll be just fine tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow?'

'Yes, we're leaving after lunch.'

When they walked up to the castle ten minutes later, Hermione felt slightly guilty; She had lost Gryffindor a hundred points in a single day, and still was to take detention – but she couldn't wait for the next day to come.

The common room was cracking with talking Gryffindors that evening, though most of the sixth-years did not join the happy buzz of voices. They were packing their trunks again – that is, at least the girls were. Hermione, ever so orderly person, had naturally followed Denn's instructions and didn't need to pack all her belongings again. On the other hand, Parvati and Lavender were in considerable distress. Having emptied the contents of their trunks (dress robes, mirrors, make-up kits, witches' magazines and crystal balls) the moment they had arrived, they now found it might have been wiser to listen to what Hermione had told them. They didn't admit that, though. It seemed that both Parvati and Lavender tried not to mention Hermione being right all too often. So Hermione simply lay down on her bed, her chin resting in her hands, and watched the two girls bustle about like busy ant-workers. She found it quite entertaining.

'Have you seen my tarot cards?' Lavender stuck her head under her four-poster.

'No – did I pack my bangles?'

'I dunno … OUCH! What's this?'

'Oooh, you stepped on my best Fortune-bones! Watch out, clumsy!'

'Clum – you left them lying around!'

'Never mind, help me with my robes, they won't fit in …'

Hermione rolled her eyes and made a grab for her book. On second thought, this was getting too ridiculous to watch. After all, it had been going on for hours. She propped _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe__ open in front of her and skipped through the pages, stopping at 'Beauxbatons, France'. There was a large gilded coat of arms beneath the title, and a short paragraph at the bottom._

'Beauxbatons Academy of Magic is currently the most important magical school in western continental Europe, and was secretly founded in the Sixteenth Century by François Ier, High King of France and greatest wizard of his era. Although the exact whereabouts of the school are yet unknown to foreign wizarding communities, it is believed that Beauxbatons may be located in the mountainous centre of the country. The school offers a traditional education in the arts of witchcraft and wizardry, and is internationally renowned for the high degree of qualification of its students. One of Beauxbatons' greater centres of interest is the care and preservation of magical creatures, of which numerous rare species are represented within the grounds. The establishment is run by the French Ministry of magic, thus allowing students to attend free of charge, as it is the case in most European schools. The current headmistress of Beauxbatons is Madame Maxime, who has notably made the school accessible to students of all nationalities.'

The next page was dedicated to a magnificent moving photograph of the headmistress, standing graciously in a sumptuous chamber, many gems and opals glittering at her fingers and throat. Hermione was rudely interrupted as Parvati, mad with exasperation, started jinxing all her belongings wildly across the room, causing everyone else to break for cover. When the storm of divination contraptions and make-up had disappeared in Parvati's trunk, Hermione decided to look for a quiet place at the common room fire and left the dormitory, picking up Crookshanks as he came through the door – which was good, because the trunk exploded a few seconds later.

At the bottom of the stairs, she met Harry and Ron, who had Hedwig and Pigwidgeon in their cages.

'We can't take them along on the flight,' Harry explained. 'So we're sending them in advanced package tour.'

The next morning passed in a flash. In no time at all, lunch was over, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were pulling their trunks through the Entrance Hall, faces alight with excitement. The mystery surrounding their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher had been unravelled by Professor Dumbledore, who had announced that a certain Professor was already waiting for them in France. With this last problem cleared from their minds, they stepped out into the sunlight, where a large group of sixth-years with pointed black hats was already waiting. Hermione, Harry and Ron dumped their trunks next to the others, and had no sooner settled themselves on the grass, when seven figures walked out of the castle. The talking stopped abruptly and the students gathered in front of their teachers and guides. Denn and Vargas stepped forward, their blue cloaks rippling lightly in the wind, closely followed by Professors Dumbledore, Flitwick, Sprout, McGonagall and Snape.

'Please form lines according to your houses,' said Dumbledore. 'Your teachers wish to give out some notices.'

Hermione scuffled over with her friends to join the other Gryffindors. Professor McGonagall stood in front of them, her head high with notable pride.

'Now, do make sure you behave yourselves,' she warned them. 'I shall not tolerate any complaints on your behalf. You are representatives of your school and will do what you are expected to.'

The Gryffindors exchanged uncomfortable looks, but Hermione was startled when she saw Neville wearing a determined expression on his face.

'You'll learn many new things at Beauxbatons,' Professor MacGonagall continued. She was smiling now. 'I am quite certain you'll enjoy your time there. We all hope you'll make friends with the French students.'

Seamus raised his hand. 'Professor? We don't have to speak French, do we?' he said in a worried voice. Everyone now eyed McGonagall apprehensively.

'No,' she smiled again. 'Beauxbatons Academy is an international school and Madame Maxime has seen to that all her pupils can speak English. If you have listened to the Headmaster's speech at lunch, you'll know that your English-speaking Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is already waiting for you. It is unlikely that you'll experience any problems in making yourselves understood.' She looked at them fondly. 'I expect great things from you. Please make me proud of Gryffindor house.'

The Gryffindors nodded, and their teacher walked back to Professor Dumbledore's side. Next to them, Hermione saw Vargas the School Guardian wave his wand at the trunks, which shrunk into minute size and dropped into a small pouch slung over his shoulder, looking as if it had no weight in it at all. Hermione hoped nothing had happened to Crookshanks, who was sitting in a basket tied to her trunk, but the absence of spitting, hissing and scratching reassured her.

Vargas flicked his wand once more, and a little cart containing the broomsticks came rattling up the flagstones to where they stood.

'Right,' said Denn, waving for attention. 'Pick up your brooms – I'll hand out the Alizé and Vargas the Heartbreaker will deal with the Zéphyr …' Denn flinched as he was ribbed sharply for the comment.

Most of the girls started giggling madly and made a rush forward. Very red in the face, Vargas (who was indeed very good-looking) started distributing the brooms, occasionally sending Denn sinister glares. Hermione took hers and waited for Harry and Ron. Unlike the bunching girls, the boys were proceeding in ordered line. This might have been because Snape was hovering nearby with an extremely grim (Hermione assumed he was looking serious) expression on his face.

It was Neville's turn now. Hermione personally felt he would do better on a Zéphyr, as they were more docile and he hadn't really done well with the other type. Denn paused for a brief moment, and peered into Neville's eyes. It was a typical Dumbledore _peer-into-his-eyes_ peer. Then he reached into the cart and pulled out an Alizé, handing it to Neville with an appraising smile. Harry and Ron snatched their brooms in a flash and joined Hermione. It didn't take long for everyone else to pass. The Sixth-years stood in a long line, broomsticks on the ground next to them, and Professor Dumbledore stood facing everyone, beaming happily.

'I believe your Heads of Houses have given you all necessary information. All I can do now is bid you good bye and wish you a pleasant trip.' He gave his grandson a loving smile, and took a step backwards.

Grasping his broom, Denn signalled towards the attentive line.

'UP!' everyone shouted. Hermione's Zéphyr jumped up, and she swiftly swung a leg over it.

'Slytherin and Ravenclaw follow Vargas,' Denn called. 'The rest come with me.'

Dumbledore waved an arm. 'See you in February,' he said brightly.

And they were off. In no time at all, Hermione rose upwards, the wind blowing through her hair, and adrenaline flooding her body. Denn led the group in a clean circle around the castle, allowing them to catch a last look at Hogwarts' towers and grounds before a long time. They passed the teacher's heads once again, who where waving up at them. Hagrid was standing in front of his hut, shouting goodbyes and frantically waving his arms. Hermione, Harry and Ron shouted back, before following the rest of their group due South.

The brooms were quickly gathering speed, and the band of Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors was parting the even surface of the lake, Hogwarts castle shrinking behind them. They had just passed the roofs of Hogsmeade village, when everyone placed their hands over the three golden stripes.

Some people screamed. The burst of speed was incredible. Hermione felt her insides go haywire in protest and thought she was going to be sick. At the same moment, the magic bubble appeared around the broomstick, preventing her skin from being ripped apart. Hermione looked sideways at Harry and Ron, both slighlty green in their faces, but howling with excitement – It was truly breathtaking. The countryside below them was rushing past in a green blur, Hogwarts had already disappeared in the haze, and the air filling the blue sky was as pure as she had never experienced before, growing cooler as they raised higher and higher.

Hermione looked over her shoulder one last time, before shooting through the clouds.

*  *  *

A/N


	3. Chapter Three: Under the Sky

─ CHAPTER THREE ─

Under the Sky

Clouds. Clouds reaching as far as eyes could see. White majestic clouds towering like mountains, white wispy clouds like feathers high above, white woolly clouds like sheep, hovering over meadows and woods. Hermione had never seen anything this beautiful in her life. Though she had flown in aeroplanes before, nothing could describe the feeling of skimming through the wideness of the deep blue sky, of parting clouds with the tip of her broomstick, or weaving around them as if they were rolling hills and valleys. Now and then, the cover broke and she could see lakes and rivers far below, winding through the green lands and glittering in the sun. When she looked upwards, she saw the sky turn from indigo to dark purple, a gostly halfmoon hanging in the infinity of space. 

Harry and Ron were having the fun of their lives; they kept flying around each other, rolling about and looping the loops, eventually ducking out of other people's way to avoid painful collisions. Hermione didn't join them – even though she enjoyed the voyage, she still didn't approve of such – well, there was no other word for it, _childlike_behaviour. Instead, she ploughed the cloud beneath her, the bubble surrounding the broom turning into shades of purple as it came into contact with the white masses, and squinted at the horizon, where she could just make out the first group of Ravenclaws and Slytherins as a mere dot in the distance. The group had traveled for over an hour and, having long switched into cruising mode (tapping the first golden stripe twice), its members were spending their time chatting animatedly with each other. Most of them were wondering about what their destination might resemble, though for Hermione, Harry and Ron, the discussion had turned to a certain Malfoy – who _unfortunately_ had been forced to stay behind, lying in a bed under the constant care of a vigilant matron …

'Malfoy's lost his verve. "Potter's little" and whatever he intended to say next … Merlin, I've heard better,' Hermione mocked happily. 'Wonder what's happened to him. Perhaps he's worried … it would be too nice if his father was caught one of these days …'

'Yeah,' Harry laughed, though it was rather breathlessly. 'Just imagine the headline, RICH PATRICIAN FOUND GUILTY OF SUPPORTING THE DARK LORD – a bit long, but nice effects I could think of …'

'And how about the next, WEALTHY FAMILY IN DISGRACE – HEIR OF MALFOY DYNASTY ON THE STREET – for once I wished Rita Skeeter could get her claws on a story like that,' Ron snickered, wiping sweat from his forehead. 'It would look fantastic on _Witch Weekly's_frontpage, it would.'

Given the number of readers that wretched magazine had, Hermione guessed rumours would spread like wildfire. Yes indeed, it would be too nice …

'Let's just hope old Malfoy won't send his sweet son a package of broomsticks along with his get-well card,' Harry started jokingly, but he dropped his grin within seconds.

The three of them exchanged nervous glances. This sounded exactly like something Lucius Malfoy might do. It was really odd how quickly their subject now switched to Quidditch.

'I do hope it won't be the new Cleansweep Tens,' Ron muttered, frowning worriedly. '_Which Broomstick_ tested them and gave'em top marks.'

'The Firebolt Giro ZXs might be a better bet,' said Harry darkly.

'Nah, they're just prototypes, not released yet …'

'Uh-uh … didn't your Dad mention something about Malfoy and the Security Department of Magical Sports?'

'Oh right …'

_Where did you two leave your nerves? _Hermione gave them an exasperated huff. 

'Honestly!' she let go. 'What are you going on about, you're both sitting on the solution.'

'Oh right …' Ron said happily. 'D'you think Den will let us borrow them?'

'I'm sure he will,' Hermione assured them. 'Didn't you see that look of his when he showed them to us yesterday? He's in love with brooms and most probably Quidditch, if you ask me.' Both her friends seemed very much relieved at that point, though Hermione suddenly thought of something else. 'Harry?' she asked. 'What is the team doing, now that you're gone?'

'Nothing to worry about,' Harry replied confidently. 'I've left the twins in charge – they've already found a reserve Seeker for us. They'll be playing Ravenclaw first and since we've been training for them last term, the team should be fine.'

Although not as identical as Fred and George Weasley, Caelan and her brother Pat O'Brien had proven themselves as invaluable assets during the last season. The very first thing Harry had arranged after his election as Captain was to rebuild the Gryffindor Quidditch Team as it had always been before – Chaser girls, Beater and Keeper boys. He had asked the old members for advice, and was keeping them informed at the same time. So it came that he had been assaulted by a hailstorm of owls – most of them coming from Oliver Wood – during a garden lunch at the Burrow, causing the entire Weasley household plus visitors to scramble for the garden shed in a rush. Hermione would never quite forget what it had felt like, when Arthur Weasley's famed battery collection had showered down upon her.

'_Your broom's on fire!_' Ron shouted.

Hermione looked back in alarm, but only laughed loudly.

'What?' said Ron, annoyed.

'Ron, you prat, I'm not on fire,' she giggled, trying to suppress the light-spirited feeling flying that flowed through her. Hermione gazed at the long smoky line issuing a yard from her broom's tail, wondering how to explain to a wizard what condensation was. 'It's normal,' she said. 'The bubble keeps us warm inside, but as it's very cold outside – er …' 

Ron was totally flummoxed. Hermione laughed again and said, 'OK, see it this way – you must have spotted some muggle aeroplanes before, with long stripes behind them? Well, we're doing the same. If you'd look behind you, you'd notice you've got one, too.'

'Den!' Harry called to the front. 'Can't the muggles see us, if we trail these behind?'

Den dropped back to their side. 'They can, Harry,' he said. 'We aren't exactly invisible, are we? Fortunately, muggle eyes aren't that keen – we can easily pass for one of these muggle contraptions or so.' He glanced briefly at the ground below. 'Oh, by the way –' he smiled up at them. 'Welcome to France.'

Far beneath her feet, Hermione saw the sparkling blue Channel suddenly change into a flat green countryside, with fields sprankled with clusters of cows, and a large coastal city set between short, sandy beaches.

'This is the seatown of _Le Havre_,' Den pointed out. 'We've made half of the journey.'

'Only half?' Justin Finch-Fletchley exclaimed. 'This is getting uncomfortable, you know.'

Den shot a poisonous dark look at the person who dared insult French Broomsticks and muttered something under his breath.

It took most of Hermione's willpower to prevent herself from giggling away at the sight of his face, but she quickly transformed her suppressed smile by asking, 'Where actually is Beauxbatons?'

It was in fact a real mystery. She had once read that there was a lot of rivalry between the different magic schools, and that they weren't very keen on letting foreigners know where they were located. Den frowned at her. Not an unfriendly or annoyed frown, it rather looked as if he was thinking delicately about how to answer.

'_Lozère_,' he finally said. 'In the heart of _Massif Central_.'

'Won't he get into trouble with Madame Maxime for telling us?' Harry asked quietly, as Den left to check on the rear. 'I thought the whereabouts were always kept secret.'

'Probably,' Hermione and Ron said, shrugging nonchalantly.

'Well – he's Dumbledore's grandson, isn't he,' Ron went on. 'Just does what he thinks is right.'

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

'_Nooo!_'

'_Hermione!_'

'_Hey, no … stay awake –_'

'_James – get Madam Pomfrey – go now!_'

'_Vivere!_'

'_No use –_'

'_Jimmy,_ _GO !_'

'_Blast …_ _hold her up!_'

'_Goodness, Den – she's cold …_'

'_ALREADY ?_'

'_Hermione, stay awake … don't let go …_'

'_Come on, breathe, breathe – Eola!_'

'_HELP HER !_'

'_I'm trying!_'

'_THEN_ _DO SOMETHING !_' 

'_I'M TRYING !_' 

'_HERMIONE !_'

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

'What's going on?' Hermione asked.

'Nothing. Slow down. Now.'

Hermione didn't exactly believe him. The tone in Den's voice told her only too clearly that something was terribly wrong. Only then did she realize that the spot making out the first group was growing larger by the second. In fact, it turned out, they had halted completely.

The Ravenclaws and Slytherins were talking loudly amongst each other, floating around and obviously not knowing what to do. Den flew over to his fellow guide, his face unreadable. As they started conversing in French, Hermione thought she had discerned the word '_Mangemorts_'. Vargas pointed to a spot on the ground below. Hermione's gaze followed the finger's direction. She couldn't see anything. Den apparently could, for he was squinting anxiously downwards at a little wood. However, Hermione knew enough French to understand what Vargas was talking about.

There was a small house (minute, seen from their height), set in a small clearing. 

As Hermione, Harry and Ron watched, an enormous green skull with a serpent uncurling from its mouth appeared over the roof.

'_In broad daylight?_' Ron shouted, eyes widening in horror.

Mangemorts – the French word for Death Eaters.

'LOOK !' a girl screamed. Hermione cursed quietly. Why did Ron have to yell like that? Now, everyone had seen it and was starting to panic.

A swishing sound caused Hermione to take her eyes from the events below. Den had swerved over and was hovering next to Harry.

'I must leave now –' he told them. 'Vargas will lead you safely to Beauxbatons.'

'What?' said Harry, alarmed. 'You can't do anything alone. Let me come along.'

He pulled his broom around and made to follow his friend, but Den placed a hand on his shoulder and held him steady.

'No – I have strengh enough for this,' he assured him. 'Our aurors will be here soon, I'll be fine ... keep out of trouble.' He gave Vargas a sharp sign, and dove towards the earth without another word.

Harry followed him with his eyes. 'This is madness, he'll be killed in no time …' he was knitting his brows together in fury. 'I'm going after him.'

'Harry, NO!' Hermione grabbed his arm. 'You heard what he said –'

'I'm not running away, I know I can help,' he said, voice rising.

This was probably true, as Harry had gathered a lot of experience concerning Dark wizards, but Hermione wasn't giving in to this, this … 

_This ridiculous attempt at boy's heroism. _

'Don't be stupid! He can deal with it, he's powerful enough!'

'Maybe you didn't notice,' Harry snarled, pointing down, 'But he's one of the few friends I've got. I'm not letting him die!'

Hermione looked helplessly at the rest of the group, who were already flying away. 'He wouldn't want you to,' she pressed. 'He doesn't want to endanger you, so _please_ _come along_!'

Suddenly, the sound of far-away explosions reached their ears. The aurors had arrived, and by the wildly flashing lights, they could tell a fierce battle had begun.

'They are murdering people down there!' Harry hissed. 'After what happened to _you_ this summer, you should have some understanding for this!'

He ripped his arm from Hermione's grasp and shot towards the forest. Ron gave Hermione a quick _stay-here_glance, and before she could say anything, he had rushed after Harry. It took Hermione a split second to make up her mind. These two were obviously mad, but they were her friends and she found it her duty to keep their backs clear, if this was the least she could do. Ignoring Ron's unspoken order, she pressed the broomhandle down and followed as fast as the Zéphyr would allow.

It hadn't been a very good decision. 

A heavy smoke was lying over the leafy roof of trees, and as they neared lower altitudes and pulled out of their dive, a concentrated storm of arching rogue beams suddenly ricocheted upwards – right into their direction. Hermione yanked the broomstick aside and dodged a pair of them. She had just rejoiced at her quick reflex when something distinctly unnatural occurred. The magic bubble suddenly blew up in bright purple colours, as if she had raced into an invisible barrier – and Hermione registered three facts. Both Harry and Ron had disappeared. Second, she was no longer flying over a small wood, but over an ocean of thick fog. She had time to make out the peaks of mighty pine trees towering in some places, before noticing that her broom was beyond control.

All Hermione saw was the white sea engulfing her.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

'_Harry!_'

Hermione jerked awake with a yell. She instantly screwed her eyelids back shut as a dazzling light blew out her eyesight. She drew quick, shallow breaths, feeling cold sweat drenching her face and the nape of her neck. When the sparkling red circles had finally receded from her retina, Hermione carefully risked to open her eyes again. She moaned quietly, trying to recall what had happened. Then the terrible truth sank on her.

_I'm dead._

She heard her moan break into a strangled gasp.

Yes, she was dead. She had just died. Just like that. Harry had screamed her name – and she had disappeared from the living world.

_So, if I am dead, this must be … something like Heaven?_

Hermione's gaze followed a crescent path. The fresh, green meadow rolled itself into smooth hills, the foot-long grass weaving back and forth in a light breeze. It seemed to reach far beyond the horizon. Hermione knew this place – she had seen it before. Many years ago, in one of her dreams. It looked exactly as she had imagined it to be. It was not Heaven, though she knew that if she could see it, she had to be dead.

Very slowly, Hermione stood up. Then only did she perceive the sound of gurgling waters behind her. 

Oh goodness, this place was really weird. Until now, everything could as well have passed for an untouched English countryside, but this certainly didn't fit in. Her eyes were very round indeed when Hermione saw the river. It was more of a small stream, actually. Or a large river, whatever was correct. The bubbles were not correct – bubbles in all sizes rising slowly from the riverbed and high into the air. Hermione felt her mouth drop. If the river was odd, it wasn't near to be compared with the sky. Above her, a grey cloudy infinity with tinges of blue breaking only to reveal a dark night, sparkling with silver stars and their clear inflexion rings, stretched itself beyond the range of imagination. She counted three moons, all extremely large, suspended in space like immense marbled spheres … and one of them was the planet Earth. 

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, blinked, and looked once more. Yes, it was the Earth – at least it resembled the pictures Hermione had seen from a moon landing on the muggle television. Complete with oceans, continents, clouds and everything else. She could even make out a hurricane creating destruction over West Africa.

Her vision blurred.

She felt her legs give away and moments later her hands splashing through the water. Hot tears poured into the cold stream. The merry gurgle of the river took hold of the whispered names of her beloved and carried them away.

Hermione didn't know how long she wept, nor did she care to. Her fingers were blue and numb from the running water. Her skin  prickled as the wind suddenly doubled up. Her sobs subsided as the most beautiful voice echoed in her head. 

'Paid ag anghofio__

_Thou from Men,_

_How I brought it to life,_

_And so brought thee to life._

'Paid ag anghofio

_Thou from Men,_

_Above my silent kingdom,_

_Thy passing shall come.'_

Hermione heard the soft sound of feet stepping towards her through the grass. Still the song slowly continued in her head, seizing her very soul and enlightening her heart. She recognized the ancient lore. She recognized the voice.

'Paid a fy anghofio fi

_Great Lord of Men._

_For I protect thy roam,_

_Thou faithful traveler,_

_And bring thou home,_

_To thy son, thy daughter._

'Paid a fy anghofio fi

_Fair Lady of Men,_

_My rule may not falter,_

_Now tell those after thee,_

_"Bring your daughters to the water…'_

'"Send your sons down to the sea",' Hermione finished, and faced the woman behind her. '_Nimue!_'

The Lady smiled. Her eyes were soft, her hair long and her skin fair. The wind rippled in the folds of her long, blue dress, as she stretched her wide white wings into their full extent.

'It is I … Friend of Merlin,' she said with a benign nod.

Hermione felt a tremour run through her body as the full impact of what she was seeing came upon her. She hadn't heard herself being called by this title for such a long time. Wild questions started dancing in her mind, though she only uttered one.

'Where am I?'

The Lady smiled. She did not answer directly.

'I have not expected you this early, Friend of Merlin,' said Nimue. 'Though I know what has happened. For I know many things. It is my wish that you are my guest. Come.'

Unable to contradict, Hermione got to her feet and took the magnificient hand Nimue offered her.

'Where am I?' she asked a second time, as they started walking together along the riverbank.

'Do you not remember my realm?' Nimue asked, smiling again.

'Yes, I do,' Hermione replied. 'But how can this be? I must be dead.'

'There are many things you yet have to learn,' the Lady answered.

'But – this cannot be … I felt myself die,' Hermione stuttered. 'How could I –'

Nimue smiled. 'You have not felt yourself die, for that is not what you are now.'

'I'm not dead? Where am I, then?'

'In my realm.'

Hermione sighed hopelessly. Demanding a straight answer from the oldest of Naiads was indeed a wearisome enterprise.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Darkness. Darkness and pain.

Hermione stirred. There was something wrong with her chest … it hurt with each breath she tried to take, as if she had been knocked over with a battering ram.

She kept her eyelids shut tightly. Every part of her body was screaming in agony. She guessed this was a good sign. What did they always say? Oh yes. Dead people don't feel pain. _How comforting_. In addition to the pain stinging all over, there was something rather sharp poking into her back. Hermione blindly tapped her hands around her, and found something to pull herself up. As she stood, feeling as though each of her bones was fractured (some of them caused her to wince as they snapped back into place), she finally opened her eyes. It took them some time to adjust to the contrastful lighting in the wood. It was a fairly mixed, untouched forest, mostly composed of high, deciduous trees, though some dark conifers shot out of the leafy ground here and there. There was a cool, wispy fog resting in the air. Looking up, Hermione realized how lucky she had been. Thirty feet higher, she could recognize some shattered remains of a broomstick sticking in the branches of a springy pine tree. She guessed that one had broken her fall. Her gaze travelled down the trunk, as it slowly changed from slender to strong, taking in several broken twigs and several feet of a shredded black cloak. Yes … the tree had saved her. It had gently dropped her into a beautiful, fearsome, thorny bush … Thanks a lot.

Her neck gave an unhealthy crack when Hermione craned to look further up. Startled, she blinked. The sky was _golden_. There was still the thick fog she had flown through, but it was no longer grey and heavy – it seemed unnaturally … magical. It hung over the trees like several drapes of finest, translucent gold linen. Only now did she take notice of the unearthy yellow light that bathed all her surroundings, eliminating colours as Hermione remembered them. Even her robes didn't seem as black as before. Her focus bounced undeterminedly between all these impossible new caprices of nature. No … it had to be magic.

Then Hermione realized how silent it was around her. There was no sign of a raging fight anymore. Even the wind had muted. Only the strange songs of unknown woodland birds rang clearly through the fresh air. She was on her own now. Alone in the vast realm of an unknown forest, in a foreign land, hundreds of miles away from home.

'Never fear, Hermione,' she muttered aloud to herself. 'You-are-a-Prefect. You're intelligent enough to get out of here.'

Upon her words, she drew out her wand and enunciated the Four-Point charm. Hermione set off in the westward direction logic had chosen for her, walking through rays of glittering light that broke through the ceiling of bright green leaves and crept over the ground as the wind rustled gently in the treetops.


End file.
